


winelight

by eyeronicmuch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, be gay do crimes, jaewin steal from the rich, thats it thats the fic, very ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeronicmuch/pseuds/eyeronicmuch
Summary: “You’re being awfully quiet, even for you.” Sicheng comments in between twirls.Jaehyun looks deep in thought. He’s looking at Sicheng but not quite. His eyes are somewhere far away.“You told me to speak up if I have to say anything,” Jaehyun says after the pace of the dance slows down.“I did. Do you, Mr. Jung?”“I do.”“Say it. I’m all ears.”Jaehyun’s gaze warms. He’s looking at Sicheng properly now. His eyes look fond. Sicheng doesn’t know why. Can’t possibly guess why.“You look stunning today.” He says.Sicheng laughs. “Really?”“Really. I love you, Mr. Dong,” Jaehyun whispers into his ear, “Most irrevocably so. Could you have guessed?”





	winelight

**Author's Note:**

> got inspired to write this after finishing irwin shaw’s book and watching pride & prejudice sjdhd  
the setting is ambiguous! jaewin’s backstory is vaguely described but ambiguous too! just how i like it

When Sicheng returns home, he sees an envelope lying on his bedside table. Calm, he tears it gently and reads the letter. A smile curves itself on his face. He puts it down to get ready. He’s attending a grand ball tonight, it seems. 

Sicheng runs gel through his hair and puts a luxurious tuxedo on. He checks the address of the target place – a mansion, secluded from the city, unguarded, with many many rich guests. 

He waits a while for the limousine to arrive, then upon entering the vehicle blueprints get handed to him.

“What is this?”

“These are the blueprints of the mansion.” Sicheng frowns lightly at the voice of the speaker. Jaehyun always sounded calm when explaining, almost condescending. It unnerved Sicheng immensely. 

“I don’t need them.” Sicheng hands them back. “You’re the one who does all the work, aren’t you? I’m just a distraction.” He scoffs. He had hoped to be on this mission alone. Oh how foolish he was. 

“There’s no shame in saying you’re a pretty face.” Jaehyun folds the blueprints and sits back in his seat. “Because you are–”

Sicheng looks out the window, annoyed. Drops of the day’s rain caress the limousine’s window. 

“–However, both of us knowing the target’s location will be quite beneficial, I believe. We will cooperate much better.”

“Are you saying the way we work together isn’t satisfactory enough for you?”

“Why, no, Mr. Dong,” Jaehyun says, “It’s just not as efficient.”

“Maybe,” Sicheng rolls up the divider between them and the driver for some privacy, “just maybe, if you’d actually worked without throwing a fuss, we’d be more efficient. None of my fault you like to chat!”

“You’re not very good company,” Jaehyun smiles. Sicheng despises that smile. How it’s obviously fake. How it’s painfully genuine. “When it comes to me.” Jaehyun rests his chin on his elegant hand. “Oh how I wish you’d talk to me the way you talk to people at those parties. Would you sit close to me? Would you flutter your eyelashes, or allow me to buy you a drink? Would you speak in a sweet voice? In a charming one? Would you put your hand on my thigh and whisper in my ear? Ah…” Jaehyun trails off.

Sicheng looks away from him, as hard as it is. For an unknown reason, Jaehyun looks particularly striking to him this night.

“You wish for too much.”

“Not for enough.” Jaehyun retorts. Sicheng feels his eyes linger on him for the rest of the ride.

The limousine pulls up. 

“See you in the grand hall,” Sicheng says. Jaehyun smiles at him. Polite and almost indifferent. As if he hadn’t said anything.

The mansion is grand. Surrounded by multiple fountains and gardens, with ionic columns, ceiling frescoes, baroque Italian furniture, golden curtains and crystal chandeliers. Sicheng feels as if he were born for such an atmosphere. He flows easily into the crowd, makes small talk with the ladies and the gentlemen, tastes the finest wines. Coincidentally, he loses sight of Jaehyun, but that is alright. He’s gotten enough of him anyway. 

“Good evening, mister,” A young woman says. He replies, flirts with her a little, sips on more wine. It’s very nice. Relaxing, even. But then Jaehyun takes him away.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Jaehyun apologizes to another lady, drags Sicheng by his elbow. Sicheng grunts. 

“What’s the matter now?”

“I did some research.” Jaehyun whispers. He’s standing too close to comfort, but Sicheng endures it. Jaehyun’s body is firm and warm, and the mansion is quite chilly. 

“The owner of it is some old man named Goodswill, and the man’s insanely rich. Throws these parties at least once a year – why haven’t we been informed about these events earlier? – anyway, this is the man’s only mansion in the country, the rest are smaller and abroad, but not the point – the money’s all here. You think you can talk to the man for a while? While I do the dirty work.”

Sicheng nods. “Surely. Be careful, please.” He says.

“Oh, I’m not going in yet. I still have some time to enjoy the evening and spend a few minutes by your side.” 

Sicheng sighs. “I quite don’t understand why you insist on, well, making small talk with me.”

“Well, Mr. Dong,” Jaehyun says, “we _are_ partners, aren’t we?”

“Temporary. I still don’t quite recall your first name.”

“Ouch,” Jaehyun winces a little, “It’s Jaehyun.”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng repeats, “let’s enjoy the night then, shall we?”

Jaehyun brings their glasses together. Sicheng doesn’t like how good Jaehyun looks with his hair slicked back and in an expensive suit, or maybe he likes it a lot. He’s rather indecisive these days. He drinks his drink. It’s bitter. 

They don’t speak for much after that. Sicheng looks at the ball and Jaehyun looks at him. His stare isn’t uncomfortable.

“If you have something to say, Mr. Jung, then say it.”

Jaehyun puts his glass down onto the table and extends his hand. “Would you allow me to have this dance?”

Sicheng decides not to press onto the matter, accepts the offer without much thought, without much hesitation. He stands in the middle of the dance floor alongside other dancers, Jaehyun across of him. The smell of perfume fills the air, along with the sounds of live music of the orchestra, and Sicheng bows. He lets Jaehyun twirl him, lets him put a hand on his shoulder and waist. 

“You’re being awfully quiet, even for you.” Sicheng comments in between twirls. 

Jaehyun looks deep in thought. He’s looking at Sicheng but not quite. His eyes are somewhere far away. 

“You told me to speak up if I have to say anything,” Jaehyun says after the pace of the dance slows down.

“I did. Do you, Mr. Jung?”

“I do.”

“Say it. I’m all ears.”

Jaehyun’s gaze warms. He’s looking at Sicheng properly now. His eyes look fond. Sicheng doesn’t know why. Can’t possibly guess why. 

“You look stunning today.” He says.

Sicheng laughs. “Really?”

“Really. I love you, Mr. Dong,” Jaehyun whispers into his ear, “Most irrevocably so. Could you have guessed?”

For an instant, Sicheng stops dancing. He freezes along with Jaehyun’s words, unable to move. Scarlet colours his cheeks and ears, but the violins are still playing. Flustered, Sicheng twirls for one last time and bows at the end of the dance, then takes Jaehyun by the hand closer to the banquet, farther from the people.

“Jung Jaehyun!” He whispers, hands shaking around Jaehyun’s frame. “What on Earth was that?”

Jaehyun shrugs. His eyes are downcast and a bit shy, a small smile plays on his lips. “Felt like being honest with myself for once. Our rivalry, our mutual hatred, I want you to know that I never hated you. Never. I’ve always loved you.”

“Now’s not the appropriate time for honesty,” Sicheng is still whispering, brows un-furrowing in an instant to plaster a fake smile towards a woman in a rouge dress that greeted them. His cheeks are just as rouge. “Don’t you think?”

Jaehyun laughs, taking a sip of his champagne. “As always you’re rational, Mr. Dong. That’s what I like about you.” 

Sicheng’s ears redden like the sky when the sun emerges from the horizon. “Mr. Jung–”

“Mr. Dong,” Jaehyun interrupts, fingers steady on Sicheng’s cheek. Sicheng’s breath hitches. “Would you spare me a kiss? Only one. Before I go.” 

“We’re on a mission,” Sicheng reminds. “After we succeed,” he doesn’t dare look Jaehyun in the eye, “I perhaps would.”

Jaehyun smiles, sweet and warm. “And if we don’t?”

Sicheng is perplexed at how Jaehyun can say such sour words with such a sweet smile. He never understood Jaehyun fully, really. 

“It would be a shame to not have known the way your lips taste if anything were to happen to me.” Jaehyun’s voice drops; he sounds almost sad.

“Alright.” Sicheng breathes out, drags his fingertips slowly to the back Jaehyun’s neck, feels Jaehyun’s skin prickle against his light touch. 

He licks his lips. Parts them a little. Waits for Jaehyun to steal a kiss. 

All sound of the chattering in the ball room has drained out, it seems, as Jaehyun leans in and presses his lips softly against Sicheng’s. No one pays them any mind.

Sicheng sighs at the sensation, at the tenderness, but wills himself to open his eyes. 

“Satisfied?” He asks.

“No,” Jaehyun says, eyes glinting. He places his hand on the small of Sicheng’s back. It’s electrifying. “One more?” He teases.

Sicheng gives in. He nods. “Only one. On the balcony. Let us have our moment of privacy.” 

Jaehyun intertwines their hands and a moment later, Sicheng’s back is pressed against the marble railing of the balcony, Jaehyun looming over him. His eyes capture the shimmering of stars above them, and Sicheng is so, so lost in them. 

Jaehyun kisses him slowly, lips dragging back and forth. He’s smiling into the kiss, Sicheng notices. He’s smiling himself, too.

“Manipulator.” Sicheng whispers, with no real bite behind the word. Although– Jaehyun does have a way of getting whatever he desires. Sicheng briefly wonders if Jaehyun desires him. 

“You love me.” Jaehyun laughs in between their kiss, leaning in for more.

“As far as I recall,” Sicheng pulls back much to Jaehyun’s dismay, “I haven’t given you an answer regarding that.”

“Regardless of your answer,” Jaehyun says, kissing his jaw, “my feelings won’t waver. My confession won’t change.”

Sicheng sighs. “We must get going.”

“I suppose we must.” Jaehyun fixes his brown hair that got ruffled by the evening wind. The moon is glowing brightly in the starry summer night. 

“Go in there and be pretty for me, alright?”

Sicheng flushes. He can’t decide if he likes Jaehyun’s way with words or not.

“Be careful,” he says lastly, before disentangling their hands and leaving the balcony. He looks down at his palms that were clasped around Jaehyun’s. They’re still warm. Still tingling.

Finding the main target isn’t hard. An ageing man by the bar, covered in riches from head to toe, one that had too many to drink, is easy to find. Sicheng sits on the bar stool beside him. The man turns to him. He reeks of expensive alcohol. 

“Young man,” he says, “Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.” Sicheng comments. He stares at the posh gowns of beautiful women by the fourchette, the pianist by the clear white royal piano, the crystal chandelier in the centre of the room, then recalls the way Jaehyun kissed him earlier. The way he tasted of Cabernet. It certainly is lovely.

“I spent quite the load of money for this ball,” the man boasts, voice proud. Sicheng notices the way there are a handful of empty glasses beside him. The man was more than tipsy. 

“It’s a wonderful ball, Mr. Goodswill,” Sicheng says. “Absolutely splendid.”

“I’m glad, I’m glad,” Mr. Goodswill chuckles, “My wife adores such balls, and I adore to please her.” 

Sicheng smiles. He checks his leather wrist-watch. Jaehyun must have found the poor man’s vault by now. Sicheng hopes his small talk is distracting.

“Say, son,” Mr. Goodswill says, “Are you married?”

“No, sir,” Sicheng replies. 

“You have a girlfriend? You see, I have a daughter... She’s beautiful, young, and unmarried...” 

“Also no, sir,” Sicheng smiles. “Not at the moment.”

“Ah, splendid.” The man orders another drink, one for Sicheng as well. “Is Scotch and soda fine?”

“Yes.” Sicheng thanks the bartender but doesn’t touch his glass. Tonight he needs to be as sober as he can be. 

“You’ll love my daughter,” the old man says, more to himself, “She’s charming. The prettiest girl in all of town. You’ll love her.” He raises his glass.

“For our acquaintance.”

Sicheng’s eyes glimmer as he clinks their drinks. “For our acquaintance.” 

The piano playing fills in their silence, Mr. Goodswill sipping on his drinks while Sicheng was watching him and looking at his wristwatch from time to time. Time flowed slowly.

“Papa! Papa!” A young blonde girl runs up to them in a hurry, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I lost my necklace! I cannot find it anywhere! Good heavens, I really must have lost it!”

“Quiet down, Constance,” Mr. Goodswill hushes her, “It’s quite alright, I’ll get you more of those damn necklaces, so stop crying, will you?” 

“Oh, papa...” She sniffles quietly, dipping a laced handkerchief to the corners of her made-up eyes. 

“This is my daughter, Constance,” The old man turns to Sicheng. “A sight, isn’t she?”

Sicheng nods out of politeness. The girl, slender and young, was wearing an elegant white dress that complimented her blonde curls. Rosy cheeks and plump lips adorned her face, as well as a lot of mascara and eye shadow. Certainly, Sicheng regards her as attractive, but has only one person on his mind, really.

The girl flushes and bows, before turning away and disappearing into the chattering of the ball.

Sicheng checks his watch, awaits for the minute handle to strike twelve. As soon as it does, Sicheng leaves with a smile and a, “Thank you so much for keeping me company, sir.” 

Sicheng exits the ballroom and takes the grand baroque-like staircase down to the main hall and walks to the garden, where he and Jaehyun promised to meet up. 

Sicheng paces back and forth between the roses, relaxes because of the fresh summer night air. He allows himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Something cold touches Sicheng’s bare skin, and Sicheng gasps at the feeling of a crystal necklace being put around his neck. 

“What is this?”

Jaehyun ties a little bow on the necklace and steps a side to look at Sicheng. He smiles.

“Something I stole on my way back from the operation, which, must I say, was a success.”

“Then where is the need for this?” Sicheng tugs on the necklace, heavy and full of shining diamonds. Realisation dawns on him. Jaehyun chuckles. 

“I wanted to get you something. Stole it from some girl who could barely hold her eyes open because of how much mascara she was wearing. You deserve it more, anyway,” Jaehyun circles his arms around Sicheng’s waist.

“Now you really are pretty for me.” He drops his voice to a whisper. Sicheng watches the way his lips move.

Jaehyun places a kiss to his mouth, “And only for me.” And Sicheng blushes, hoping the darkness would conceal his flustered state. 

“I would like to hear your answer.” Jaehyun says. He looks away into the distance to give Sicheng his space. 

“I..” Sicheng stammers, suddenly overcome by shyness, “I thank you for the necklace.” He breaks away from Jaehyun’s hold, and leaves him standing amidst the roses, while he hails a cab. Sicheng fiddles with he necklace throughout the whole mellow ride. 

What a long day. 

He places the necklace next to his bedside table. Sicheng wore it only once since Jaehyun had given it to him, out of sheer curiosity. Did he really look that good in it? He looks in the mirror. The necklace lays firmly on his chest, not tight but not loose either. It shimmers prettily and Sicheng suddenly remembers Jaehyun’s fond eyes. It’s a memory he keeps unwillingly. 

“Oh, Kun,” Sicheng whines, “What on Earth must I do?”

“I say accept him,” Kun suggests from the other side of the living room where he’s sitting on an arm chair while flipping through the newspaper. “Jaehyun’s a fine young man, moreover he’s into you. What are you waiting for?”

“Kun,” Sicheng says, “It really isn’t that simple.”

Kun puts his newspaper down. “What’s stopping you?”

“There’s something about Mr Jung – I don’t know – that doesn’t sit well with me. He’s sly, very sly, and I don’t know his true motives. He’s a man who wants to acquire anything his eyes lay on, no matter what. Do you have any idea why he’s in this business with me?”

Kun sighs. “None. Although, wouldn’t it be better to ask the man himself?”

There’s a knock on the door. Kun gets up and looks through the peephole. “Speak of the devil,” he says, unlocking the door.

Jaehyun stands in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers. Roses. 

“Sicheng!” Kun calls. “I assume these are for you.” 

Sicheng, curious, gasps upon the sight. “Mr. Jung!” His voice cannot contain the excitement. “These are very beautiful.”

“For you.” Jaehyun says.

Sicheng bows, “Thank you, Mr. Jung. I’ll put them in a vase as soon as I can. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “It’s alright. I only came to deliver you this.”

Sicheng smiles at him. Earnest and easy. 

“You’re not wearing the necklace.”

“I would feel terribly bad wearing it, knowing poor young Constance is very upset about ‘losing’ her most favourite jewellery.” Sicheng replies. “Don’t you feel bad?”

“Oh, I feel just terrible,” Jaehyun says with a smile Sicheng doesn’t know if he likes or loves, “for getting a pretty ornament for a man I like.”

“Stop that,” Sicheng flushes. “Stop acting so bold.”

“But Mr. Dong, aren’t I always bold?”

“Gentlemen,” Kun interrupts, “I’m sure you’d like to hear the local news. 

Sicheng leads Jaehyun into the living room, where all three sit down. 

“Is it about our last robbery?” Sicheng asks.

“Not quite.” Kun says. “It says here that Goodswill’s beloved daughter has her necklace missing, that it’s a suspected robbery that was throughly executed at the ball a few nights ago. There’s even an interview and all that.

“What about the suspects?”

“Two.” Kun says. “Some janitor whom the daughter dislikes, and you.” He points at Sicheng. 

_“Moi?!”_ Sicheng is astonished. “I didn’t even touch the scotch the old man bought me! Not a single drop! How on Earth?”

“Someone reportedly saw you wearing his daughter’s necklace when you were entering the cab.” Kun says.

Sicheng glares at Jaehyun, who was laughing. “Don’t you dare laugh– this is all your fault!”

“Don’t be upset,” Jaehyun calms him down, “I’ll sort it out. Just feign ignorance, talk to the old man about how pretty his daughter is or something, and I’ll return the necklace, sounds good?”

“Just marvellous.” Sicheng frowns. “At least he’s not suspicious about the money.”

“Worry not,” Jaehyun puts a hand over Sicheng’s. Sicheng feels the same sparks he felt when Jaehyun first held it. “Everything shall be fine.”

Everything does end up fine – Kun thinks of an alibi for Sicheng, the latter charms both the father and the daughter with his smiles, and Constance magically finds her favourite necklace.

“Oh, Papa!” Constance exclaims. “It was under my bed, papa, the necklace. I must have dropped it.”

“I see,” Goodswill chuckles. “I knew this young man was innocent, I just knew it.”

You did not, Sicheng thinks, When it comes to lost money or prized possessions, suddenly everyone’s to blame.

Sicheng leaves the mansion without being investigated for too long, and sees Jaehyun waiting for him by the gate. Sicheng frowns.

“Lovely to see you,” Jaehyun says, unusually happy for such a gloomy day.

“Can’t say likewise,” Sicheng replies. He’d had enough of the Goodswill family for today. Never again.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Jaehyun opens the car door for him, “frowns don’t suit your handsome face.”

“If you hadn’t stolen that goddamn necklace, I would be smiling widely.” Sicheng says. Jaehyun sits beside him in the rear seat. “Why are you here, Mr. Jung?”

“To escort you.” 

“Don’t act like a gentleman now, Mr. Jung,” Sicheng says. “I was fine on my own. During missions, too.”

Jaehyun frowns. “I’m simply worried. Aren’t I allowed to be?”

Sicheng sighs. Jaehyun sounds earnest, sincere. Sicheng likes that tone on him. 

When Jaehyun extends his hand, Sicheng takes it, lets Jaehyun intertwine their fingers. He smiles a little. 

“I don’t understand you, Mr. Jung,” Sicheng looks at their clasped hands. “What are your ulterior motives?”

“Ulterior motives?” Jaehyun repeats. “None.”

Impossible, Sicheng thinks. But he doesn’t say it aloud. Everyone has an ulterior motive.

Jaehyun traces his thumbs over Sicheng’s knuckles. The radio plays a soft tune. The sky starts to clear up. Maybe things are finally looking upwards, Sicheng thinks. He thinks about Jaehyun’s confession. Sometimes, that’s all he thinks about. Jaehyun’s soft voice, his arms around Sicheng’s neck, the touch of soft lips on his, the fireworks that burst in the pit of his stomach, Jaehyun’s eyes of lust and want, his own hatred of Jaehyun, their made up rivalry, how he kissed back with as much fervour as Jaehyun had kissed him, the godforsaken _‘I’ve always loved you.’_

Sicheng needs to hear them again, to ensure that Sicheng isn’t dreaming. He purses his lips and asks, “Mr. Jung–”

There’s a knock on the car window. 

“Fresh news!” The newspaper boy says. What a good time to be stuck in traffic, Sicheng thinks. It’s only been an hour at most since he left the steps of the mansion.

Jaehyun rolls the window down and takes the newspaper, gives the young boy a banknote. 

“Wouldn’t you look at that,” Jaehyun says. “The old man finally realized his money isn’t his anymore.”

Sicheng shifts closer to Jaehyun’s seat, looks at the head title of the local news.

“Heart attack. Hospitalised.” He whispers. “Christ.” The news really are fresh. His question is long forgotten. He’ll ask later. 

Jaehyun chuckles, snakes an arm around Sicheng’s waist. Sicheng sees his fingers settle at his hip from the corner of his slanted eyed. He lets him. 

“Money does affect our health, doesn’t it?” Jaehyun says, shaking his head. He folds the newspaper and puts his head on Sicheng’s shoulder. Sicheng sighs. Poor old man. Poor Constance. Poor rich people. 

It’s a quiet evening when Sicheng’s doorbell rings. He unlocks the door without any hurry, takes his time in undoing the locks. He never liked to hurry. Always took things slow. Kun respected him for that.

He welcomes a delivery man. “A letter for Mr. Dong.” The man says.

“That would be me.”

The man gives him a beige envelope, along with a single rose. From the addresser, the man said. Sicheng is curious. 

Putting his mug of tea aside, he opens the envelope carefully, reads the neat handwriting.

_’Put your best suit on. It’s a grand party. Tomorrow, 8pm, I’ll come for you. Wait for me outside. _

_The rose is for you, by the way. I’ll give you the rest of the bouquet tomorrow. _

_Love, Jaehyun’_

Sicheng admires the rose. It’s coral pink, and reminds him of spring’s sunrises. He wishes flowers lived forever. 

His lips curl upwards. He’s quite looking forward to tomorrow.

As promised, Jaehyun gives him the rest of the bouquet the following day.

“You didn’t have to,” Sicheng says, bowing.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?”

Sicheng laughs. “Using your charms on me, Mr. Jung?”

“I’m waiting.” Jaehyun replies. 

“For what?”

“For the day when you’d kiss me first.”

“Maybe,” Sicheng says, “today is that day.”

Jaehyun’s smile is blinding. His charms are working, Sicheng thinks. They always have worked. Jaehyun’s dark hair is parted at the side, there’s the faintest trace of eyeshadow adorning his eyes, making them stand out. Dressed in a velvet suit, Jaehyun looks like everything Sicheng has ever wanted. 

Maybe today is that day, Sicheng says to himself. If Jaehyun looks at him with a wanting gaze, eyes deep and alluring, with a knowing slight smirk, for even a second, it definitely will be. 

Sicheng doesn’t ponder over his colleague’s love confession for much longer. He gets warped into the atmosphere of the higher class, enjoys the exquisite aroma of French wines, admires the interior design of the mansion. He feels at home.

If I get rich, Sicheng thinks, I’ll certainly buy myself a mansion. He sips on the wine, looking out for Jaehyun’s whereabouts in the hall, but the latter is nowhere to be seen. But then Sicheng hears him. 

A soft melody of the piano pierces his ears, and he turns around. All ladies and men do. He holds in his breath. The playing is brilliant. Sicheng sees Jaehyun sitting on the piano stool, back to him, but Sicheng knows that Jaehyun is smiling. 

The wine tastes even more delicious now. Perhaps Sicheng is getting tipsy on the wine, or on Jaehyun’s playing, or perhaps on both. The orchestra plays as well. The night has just begun. 

By midnight, Sicheng has managed to steal a few diamond rings from unsuspecting young women, pearl earrings, and even found a dropped Cartier watch. Oh, the careless rich. 

Jaehyun invites him for a dance. Sicheng falls back against his chest, sways alongside the music, feels unusually relaxed. Jaehyun puts his chin on Sicheng’s shoulder, hums the melody, also laidback. Sicheng feels Jaehyun’s hair tickle his cheek, feels each rise and fall of his chest, pays attention to the way Jaehyun’s hands are so tightly hugging his waist. 

“We’re not quite dancing,” Sicheng points out.

“Maybe so,” Jaehyun whispers, “however I like this better.”

Sicheng looks out the window. Like last time, the moon is glowing bright. Jaehyun turns him around. Cups his cheeks.

“Did you steal anything tonight?” He says barely inaudibly, only so that Sicheng would hear him.

“Yes, quite a few things. What about you, Mr. Jung? Did you manage to steal anything this night?”

“One priceless item,” Jaehyun moves closer, whispers quieter. “Your heart.”

Sicheng gives him a small smile. “Blunt, Mr. Jung, very blunt.” He kisses Jaehyun quickly, then again, slowly. Jaehyun melts against each press of his lips. 

Sicheng lets himself be honest, too. When they part, he brushes stray strands of hair away from Jaehyun’s eyes. His eyes are so incredibly kind, so incredibly tender. Sicheng is caught in quicksand, drowning and drowning.

“But you’re not quite correct, for how can you steal something that belongs to you in the first place?”

“I thought you hated me.” Jaehyun says. He’s grinning, but his eyes are in disbelief.

“But I do.”

Jaehyun clutches onto Sicheng’s suit, stares into his soul. 

“Do you love me?”

Sicheng doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a grover washington song!


End file.
